


stronger than kevlar: a drabble

by slicksilver (skulltoki)



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Drabble, Gen, assassin!hyukjae, mafia!au, originally thought to be a full lenght haehyuk mafia!au but it's left as an oneshot, sorry guys i might write it someday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-23 14:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13789989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skulltoki/pseuds/slicksilver
Summary: What is stronger than kevlar, more painful than bullets and still as delicate as an orchid? What has the ability to pull us through almost anything but still end up breaking us all in flakes smaller than gunpowder?Love, that is.Love in a world where it's forbidden. It's not exactly written in the law, but everyone whose chest is occupied by a gun vest knows it.





	stronger than kevlar: a drabble

 

**His First Kill. _  
_ **

 

 

_The last, silent hitches of breath and the raindrops against a partly broken windshield. There was a nasty hole caused by a bullet and Hyukjae's empty gaze stayed locked on it, yet not concentrating fully on what was in front. The red blood of a previously living human was making its way through the microscopic cracks of the glass, so deep that the rain would never wash it away. The colour vas vivid and strong compared to the grayness of this rainy day. Some of it had managed to drip inside, straight onto the dashboard. Hyukjae's ears were still ringing and repeating the loud bang from earlier._

 

_The windscreen wipers were moving sideways with a regular rhythm. Raindrops were pushed away just before new ones fell. Most of the blood had been washed away already, but the redness in the cracks stayed. Hyukjae wondered, how many seconds were between the wipes? Four? Or perhaps even five?_

 

_He put the cigarette between his lips and inhaled. Smoke lingered in his mouth for a while, then gradually coming out like a reverse waterfall and hitting the ceiling of the black car. It wasn't his, but it was a car he had spent lots of hours in, and he had already grown a slight liking to the vehicle. Too bad the windshield was thoroughly shattered, only staying upright because of the sticker-like coating of the glass. It was a bit bent too._

 

_"Impressive", said a low voice of a person next to him._

 

_That brought Hyukjae back to reality. This was not a hallucination. The nauseous feeling was not a product of imagination, and the pistol in his hands that had warmed up was not a lie. Outside, the black haired youngster was calm, but inside he was shaking so much that he knew his voice would break if he opened his mouth to speak. His own stomach had already been emptied on the parking lot, so there was no stuff left to vomit. Nothing would ease his mind anymore, not after this. Only words and cries of the unknown feeling. His head was aching, his breath was trembling slightly and his mouth tasted terrible. He couldn't pinpoint if it was the cigarette or the vomiting. He figured it was both of those two together, or then he thought it was just the basic taste of the aftermath of a kill._

 

_Hyukjae rested his foot on the dashboard and leaned a head on his hand which was supported by his knee. His gaze was still on the windscreen and his outer self appeared silent, almost too eerie for his own liking._

 

_"I see a lot of potential in you", the man who was with him mumbled with a grin, also turning his gaze at the destroyed windshield. It was his car after all, but he couldn't be mad at his young apprentice. He was, like any other mafia worker, extremely rich and could afford a new car everytime he wanted to._

 

_Hyukjae stayed silent. He should've felt guilty about the death of that man that was not in his vision any longer, and he should've felt guilty about firing the gun in the first place. On top of that he definitely should've felt guilty about agreeing to follow this older member of the mafia he had been picked into, but he was numb. Suddenly he had lost all of his human traits along that first loss of human life. He felt like he had killed himself along with it as well, and his old personality was slipping through his ice cold fingers. It was sad how easily every good deed and habit he had done in his life before was now washed away._

 

_He really tried to look at the glass in front, but all he saw in his mind was the last look of the lifeless body that had fell off from the bonnet. The victim's life had probably been meaningless and miserable, just like his, and there was actually no reason for Hyukjae to shoot him, but still he had somehow managed to change his approach from self defense to an aggressive attack without noticing himself. The movement came naturally, and the black haired teen didn't understand how. He hadn't done this before, and yet the only thing that he felt guilty about was the car. He was afraid he would, at any minute, break just as easily as the windshield._

 

_He had, after a slight struggle with the victim, ended up pushing the other man with his back first on top of the car, only to be shot in that exact place seconds after. The bullet had pierced a hole not only through the head, but also through the glass. It was no wonder the dash and the car radio were now slightly wet as well. Hyukjae felt cold, his hair was damp and sticking to his forehead, but his heart was racing madly. Go to hell, he had thought when he had shot that stranger and kicked him off the car's hood. As the body had quickly stopped struggling, he only felt.. pleased. One less enemy to deal with, he had told himself. He was taught that way, and he had to follow the ideology. He considered those who gave in as weak losers._

 

_"I suppose that was your first one? Ahhh, I still remember mine too.." The man wearing a suit chuckled at his memories as he sat on the driver's seat._

 

_Only after Hyukjae had sat down into the car and had lighted his second last cigarette, he had realized what he had actually done. The boy had spent a while almost hugging the wet asphalt, staining the fabric on his knees and the gun in his hand as well, but it was not like the denied guilt lingering in his conscious would go away with puking any time soon. If ever._

 

_"I like your style of combat", told the voice when the laughter faded away._

 

_Did he really? Hyukjae thought so too, if he had to be honest. He tried to be proud of it._

 

_"..but next time, make it a bit less theatrical, alright?"_

 

_Hyukjae only nodded as an answer, still not being able to talk. He tried to convince himself of his good traits and make himself believe that what he just did was not that bad. He denied any negative thoughts. They would not get him anywhere close to what he wanted. His main goal was to be wanted in the mafia world, nothing less, but that itself was only reached with hard work. It meant he needed to make actual progress. His work would definitely pay off and get him on higher platforms eventually. As a naive teenager, it was only easy money he was after at that point._

 

_You'll get used to it, they had told him as he had bowed down in the sixteenth floor of a glass building. It'll pass the more you do it, they had promised him as they had shaken hands. Hyukjae tried to believe in it._

 

_It was a twisted world he had gotten himself into._

 

 

* * *

 


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